Traitor
by Sanguine Balladist
Summary: They have people on the inside. When one of their cases hits too close for the mob's liking, a hit goes out and tensions are high. In an unlikely set of circumstances Olivia is forced to drag Alex with her in a whirlwind of danger. Who is the traitor?
1. Chapter 1

**Title :** Traitor

**Pairing :** Alex/Olivia

**Author Note :** Hey guys! Welcome to a hopefully long term story dealing with a case gone horribly, horribly wrong. Continuance is based on reviews so please do so! As always critique is greatly appreciated, as well as suggestions and comments.

* * *

His heart had stopped beating.

The gunshots rang loud and clear in the mid November air, biting and cold, echoing throughout the otherwise empty city streets. It was late, far too late for a stakeout and far too late for his liking, but it was orders and it was suppose to be nothing more then observation. That all changed when their backup, partners from homicide, began firing shots. There were no suspects, there were no perps, there were no crimes in progress; just Elliot and Olivia. It had all been a fucking setup from the inside out and they never saw it coming. Not until it was too late.

They scattered in an instant, abandoning their 24/7 diner in favor of an area with less chance of casualties, more chance of a talk down. It seemed unlikely at this point, and Elliot wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to talk these sons of bitches down anymore. They were in the side alley, ears straining for any sign of the traitors in blue, and with every passing second they couldn't help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. Was it when IAB showed up two weeks ago? How about when the 1PP decided to crawl up their ass about a string of seemingly unrelated attacks? There were too many unanswered questions and not enough time. Elliot pulled out his radio only to feel Olivia's hand firmly wrap around his wrist. She shook her head silently, gun out and ready much like his own, a deep frown set along her face. "What are the chances they're listening on their own radios?" It was highly likely, and he mentally cursed himself. "I don't like this. We've been fucked over before but nothing like this. Not with our own people coming after us. Split up, regroup, and no contact until we figure out what the fuck is going on."

He watched her slip off the safety, remembering his had been clicked off the moment he heard shots. He was a lot more eager to take them down, he already knew this. He shouldn't of been, they were still people, despite their choices in life. Still, if they acted with haste now, it could kill the only lead they possibly had. No, it was turning into a game of cat and mouse and for some reason, he didn't feel like he was wearing the claws this time around. "Fine." There wasn't much of a choice. "Remember our phrase? I don't care where you call from, the first thing you say is the phrase or you'll hear a disconnect tone faster then anything else." It was a long running safety net they had, ten years in the making and up until now they thankfully hadn't needed it. Hostage situations, impersonators, the list went on and on for possible reasons to use it, and now seemed a good enough time as any to put it into effect. She simply nodded her response, letting out a deep breath to calm her nerves. He was no coiled it didn't matter anymore. He felt like a snake ready to strike out at anything and everything. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll head north, I know the area a bit so I should be able to lose them quick enough. Take the south, if they end up following us we'll have a better chance one on one in the end." He crouched up a bit, his knees groaning against the sudden movement. When this was done and over with, he'd have to head to the gym a few days a week to make up for it.

Her hand found his wrist again. "Be careful."

They ran in opposite directions, sticking close to buildings and dumpsters, trying their hardest to locate where the homicide grunts had wandered off to. So far they were in the clear, and that in itself was more unnerving then being shot at. He couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, and the harder he tried he couldn't even make out the diner behind him. So far so good. He wanted to call the captain, sort things out, figure out where they were breached. But it had to wait. Wait until they were out of danger, wait until they were out of the dark, and wait until his lungs stopped burning. He had to work out more, he was getting complacent. Twisting a corner into a new alley he paused a moment, head up to the sky for a deep breath before pressing forward again.

_Three shots._

He swore as he dove against hard, unforgiving cement. The impact was a bitch and rolling through the trash and loose gravel was more insult then anything else. On his feet again, he whipped around, feet still carrying him in the opposite direction, eyes scanning in the darkness as best as possible. He fired off a single shot, a slight groan reaching his ears and sparking a grin as he took off with renewed energy. _Turn around you stupid bastard and get out of here._ The return fire was off by at least ten feet, but close enough to spur extra length to his steps. He wanted to see his kids again, god damn it, and he was going to make that happen. He briefly wondered how his father had been able to run so long and hard when he was a dedicated chain smoker. _Maybe that's what did him in after the shooting. _

Another corner, another alley and he couldn't hear a single thing. Nobody chasing after him, no bullets whizzing through the air, and no concerned citizens to call 911 like they were suppose to. He clicked the light of his watch on for a split second, his frown all but growing. Where the hell was he suppose to find cover at two in the morning? It was mainly residential areas at this point. He could flash his badge, use a phone, but what good would it do him? Call the captain? No. Call Kathy? Double no. If he waited long enough he could find a decent hiding spot until morning rolled around and check into the hotel a few blocks down. They opened at...what was it? Five? Something like that. It was the safest option. His thoughts fell back to Olivia, well past annoyed that there was no immediate contact. He'd call at five, if there was no answer? He'd retrace his steps and find her. Be safe.

* * *

_Three shots._

Crouching behind a pile of long forgotten trash bags, it took everything she had not to run back, cursing all the while beneath her breath as she clenched and unclenched her fist. Elliot was a good cop, he knew what he was doing. But that worry would always be there, bubbling just beneath the surface. He'd been shot before, so had she, it was part of the job. It didn't make it any easier, though. It was brief, the pause before the return fire, but the fact that he was firing back was a scarce sign of good luck. She'd take what she could get at this point.

Fleeing her safe zone she kept against the brick walls as she made her way south, all the while scanning the area to make sure it was clear of civilians and enemies alike. First rule of combat was, if possible, lure your suspect into a highly populate area in order to scare him into not firing his weapon. A single death was one thing. Firing into a crowd of people was an entirely different level, one that most people wouldn't even dare to think about. These two though, Jake and Anderson? They fired in the middle of the god damned street, into a diner without any concern or setbacks. That was while they were in uniform, their squad car in the vicinity, and badge numbers on display for all to see. They didn't care because chances were, they were getting payed big money _not_ to care. The fact that IAB was constantly in their way while people like this were running around really pissed her off.

She used that anger to fuel her frenzied passage between buildings and stores, trying her best to catch street signs as she made her way along. Forty second street had been three blocks back, so if she remembered right she'd be hitting another apartment complex soon and a few more blocks would give way to some abandoned construction sites and industrial buildings. She'd make her way through the construction and hopefully find a decent place to hole up in until morning. Find a pay booth, call Elliot, and find out what the fuck was going on.

"Stop! Police!"

A light fell across her face and she doubled back in an instant, cursing as she rounded a corner and kicked up loose chunks of concrete along her way. The homicide duo were in uniform. Olivia was in a leather jacket with a gun in her hands and drenched in sweat despite how cold it was outside. Who was the more believable cop in this situation? It made her want to laugh at the irony. If it were daylight a group of concerned citizens would get in her way, giving Anderson just enough time to catch up to her and take her to...the bosses? The mob? She didn't even know who they worked for at this point, but she wasn't about to find out the hard way. Luckily it was night, and such a stunt wouldn't work which made her wonder how long they had really been on the force. Were they new transfers from a station that didn't even exist? Or were they really just that wet behind the ears, despite their underground connections?

Her lungs were on fire, her feet seemingly worn to the bone, and the harder she tired the less likely it was that she was breathing normally. The sudden pain to her shoulder didn't help, and the fact that she could hear footsteps right behind her made everything that much worse. Spinning around on a dime, she raised her gun and fired twice. Both hit their mark straight into the chest, watching as he fell hard, face meeting concrete for the final time. He didn't move, her breathing evening out as she lowered her weapon, eyes never leaving his back. Anderson was young, early twenties, wet behind the ears and involved in something he shouldn't of been. Blood began to peek out from his chest, staining the sleeves of his arm as it continued outwards.

"Anderson!" His partner.

She ran again, not looking back. He had given up the chase on Elliot. That meant he either lost sight of him or... No, he must of lost sight of him. Glancing around she realized she was in a dead end and the only way back was through the alleyway with homicide's finest. There was a fence to the other side but it was too damn high without anything to use as leverage. No dice. The fact she'd have to sneak across the opening made it twice as unappealing. She couldn't just wait around and be a sitting duck, either. She glanced up at the sky, letting out a heavy sigh. Then she saw it.

The fire escapes. If she worked fast enough she could be eight stories in the air and out of sight and range of the remaining partner if he decided to pursue. Tucking her gun hastily back into it's hostler, she raised herself up onto the rickety and freezing bars, trying desperately not to curse from the tension and pain. She hit the gym twice a week and even more when she got the chance, something like a pull up shouldn't of been a problem. Grabbing her shoulder as soon as she got up onto the platform, she quickly withdrew her hand, realizing exactly what was wrong. Too much adrenaline combined with a gunshot wound often times ended up with stupid behavior. Such stupid behavior, also led to the lack of realization that one had been shot in the first place. It was a clean shot, in and out, and she would of known it something vital was hit already. No, she'd be fine as long as she got somewhere to lay down and hopefully find something to dress the wound with. Her sweatshirt would work once she had the time.

Wiping her hand off on her pant leg, she made her way up the alternating ladders at a considerable pace, trying not to jar her shoulder more then necessary. Her hair kept getting in her face as she made her way up, level after level, steel cold bar after steel cold bar. It wasn't higher then twenty degrees out and she'd been running for well over two hours. She was freezing, inside and out, fingers a little more purple then she last remembered. Her shoulder was becoming impossible to deal with, and as she glanced up at the multiple levels she could get to, she decided to rest. She was ten stories up already, wind tying desperately to blow her away, the occasional flake making itself known. She blew into her hands, rubbing them together, taking a look bellow. She couldn't see either of them from this height, so she was comfortable they couldn't see her, either.

Leaning against one of the firmly shut windows, blinds drawn strictly shut, she let out a deep sigh, clutching again at her shoulder. Everything was turning white, either from lack of comprehension or just plain snow, she wasn't sure which. How much blood had she lost since her climbing expedition? Could they track it? What time was it? She didn't know the answer to any of those questions, and it bothered her. Twisting around, she rapped her knuckles against the window, once then twice. A slight pause, and she tried it again. No such luck. There were two windows each level on the side she was on, and chances were they went into the same apartment either way.

Pulling her gun out, she used the butt end to break the glass, clearing it away so it wouldn't cut her as she made her way inside.

* * *

Alex could charge him with first degree man slaughter, second degree burglary, and a few misdemeanors just to piss him off when everything was said and dead. It was a solid case with plenty of evidence and even a living witness to put him away for a decent amount of time. She was pushing for fifty years, but chances were it would be reduced to thirty, which was good enough for her. It was thirty years of him being behind bars and another win to add to her ever growing collection. Special Victims was unique in that aspect, that no matter how clear cut the case was, there was more then enough chances for the scum of the earth to walk free. No, SVU wasn't a particularly safe unit for an aspiring district attorney, but it was well worth it at the end of the day.

Shutting the case book closed, she put the appropriate papers in their rightful folders and slid them into her briefcase, locking it without a second thought. Safety first. Now that work was out of the way, she had time to relax and perhaps even catch a few hours of sleep before she was due in court for the morning. Glancing at the clock on her desk, she let out an audible groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. Two in the morning? She'd have time for a glass of wine and then what? Four hours of sleep? She'd be napping at her desk during lunch, that much was certain.

Making her way into the kitchen, she pulled down a single wine glass, pouring one of her favorite bottles of chardonnay. It was light and loose and reminded her of home, for whatever reason. Perhaps because it eased away her tensions so easily. She wasn't an alcoholic by any means, but she knew how to use it as a much needed escape when the opportunity presented itself. For now, she was fine for a glass and sleep. Blissful, undisturbed sleep. Hand resting on the counter, her hip against the edge, she nearly dropped her glass in surprise. Had she left her television on before she went into her study? No, she could see it from where she was now and it was as black as it had ever been. The radio? No. The same rapping noise came again, and she set her glass down, knowing for certain it was coming from the living room. Her supposedly empty living room. Grabbing a kitchen knife from the block, she made her way quietly to the living room entrance, eyes darting around wildly.

As soon as the glass from her window fell the floor, she couldn't help but gasp, tightening her grasp on the knife. What the hell was she doing? The perp probably had a gun, maybe something worse. Was it a random break in or was it someone from a case she had dealt with? A thousand and one thoughts ran through her mind at once, watching the figure slink into her living room. "S-stop! I have a knife!" Her living room was far too dark to make out any noticeable features.

The figure stopped abruptly. Could she scare him off before any damage was done? Hands raised in the air, one that Alex immediately noticed was holding a gun, the figure spoke quickly and in such a heavy slur she could hardly make it out. "Please. I'm a c-cop. Detective. Badge number...number 44015. My name is.." The voice teetered off for a moment, but she immediately recognized the number, if not the voice.

Hand lowering slightly with the knife, she flicked the light switch on, illuminating the living room. "Olivia?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note :** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and put in their two cents. This chapter seems kind of drabbly to me, but it'll pick up in the next, I'm sure. Continuance is based on reviews so please do so! As always critique is greatly appreciated, as well as suggestions and comments.

* * *

Initial shock combined with sleep deprivation made her wound dressing abilities less then admirable. It clung loosely from Olivia's shoulder, and the more she looked at it the more she wondered how she had messed up so badly in the first place. Then again her place was in the courtroom, not a hospital and her apartment was certainly no medical center. The most she had, tool wise, was gauze and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, neither of which was suitable for a bullet wound of any degree. It had taken her an hour to clean away the blood and apply the bandages without causing great discomfort, certain that her small armchair would never be the same again.

She had thought about calling Cragen as soon as Olivia had dozed off, but she had promised no calls and as soon as the brunette was up and about she had a long list of questions she expected to be answered. It wasn't everyday that a wounded detective showed up in her apartment via illegal methods, and she rather hoped it was a once in a lifetime event. She had been shot personally, with much of the credit going to the underground mob infesting the city, and she knew the terror and pain associated with such events. Olivia? She shrugged it off as if she had stubbed her toe on the desk at work. Her breathing was even and hardly noticeable, a few coughs breaking the silence from time to time.

The red letters of her digital alarm clock told her it was nearing five in the morning, when she had requested to be awoken up. Alex played with the thought of giving her a few hours extra, if for nothing more then her shoulder and the deepening bags beneath her eyes, but she'd rather not face the shit storm that would inevitably follow in such a scenario. Instead she chose to kneel down next to the detective, grabbing onto her good shoulder as she gently shook her away. "Olivia." She tried slowly, gaining no response aside from a confused mutter. "Detective Benson, where are the interview documents on the Owens Case?"

Her eyes fluttered open immediately, dull and hazy, reaching out as if she were at her computer. "Alex, I don't think I printed those out yet..." Rubbing at her eyes, she immediately dropped her bad arm, cursing through a bad cough. "Alex?..." Her eyes trailed around a moment, tenderly touching her shoulder, earlier events rushing back at her in a chaotic stream. "Sorry I'd forgotten. Please tell me you've gotten some sleep?" She felt terrible for putting Alex out like this without so much as an explanation, despite the situation.

"Lucky for you I have an assistant to do my bidding and as of an hour ago, all of my cases have been transferred for the day in order to clear my schedule. Also lucky for you, I decided to take a sick day though I'm curious as to the events surrounding my mysterious illness..." Pushing over a cup of coffee she had brewed a little bit ago, she watched as Olivia took a hearty sip from it, keeping it in her hands for added warmth.

Finally setting down the empty cup, she gave her an apologetic smile, shrugging her good shoulder in a white flag attempt. "What are the chances I can make a call first?" Alex simply stared at her, waving her hand as if to say, _fine_. What was another ten minutes at this point? She punched the speed dial in quickly, not noticing she had stopped breathing as each dial tone rang in her ears. The line picked up. "We are the all seeing, all dancing crap of the world."

"Thank fucking god." She could hear him sigh on the other end, and both of them visibly relaxed. "Where are you?"

"Would you believe Cabot's? It seems my career as a common criminal would go awry from the very beginning."

"Did you..."

"Not yet. I think it's fine though. Are you okay? I heard shots and..."

"A couple of those shots were from me. I think I nailed the bastard but I don't know for sure."

"Andrews is dead but he nailed me in the shoulder. I didn't go to the hospital. If they have people in the academy and in the force, they're bound to have medical staff at Mercy. Especially overnight. I think it's safe to say keep it to our people and our people only. No more outside help from here on in. We don't want them suspicious though."

"Keep Cabot in the loop and I'll call the Captain and see what we can work out. This is some really fucked up shit, Liv. If worse comes to worse we could always play dead and work from the shadows." He could only imagine Kathy sitting with her new husband, his face flashing on the screen under the caption 'Two of New York's Finest Slain' more at eleven.

"Where are you, anyways?"

"Construction site. I met a hobo named Steve downstairs. We're going to have beans for breakfast."

She let out a light laugh. At least they weren't too worse off. "Alright. Call me back once you hear from the Captain. Same phrase, just until we can regroup." Alex mouthed something, finally catching on. "You're welcome to meet up here if you feel it's safe enough. I'll text you the address."

"Will do."

They hung up with little else to say, Olivia content and feeling refreshed with the news. One step back and two steps forward, whatever the reason. Her shoulder stung like a bitch though. "I'm assuming he's a little less comparable to Swiss cheese then you are?" Alex's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I'm guessing there was a shoot out between you and the two officers from homicide, for whatever reason?" She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "What case are you guys even working on, because none of this has even remotely crossed my desk." She was annoyed to be so far out of the loop, and equally annoyed that there seemed to be a fracture between detective and prosecutor. For the system to worked the way she needed it to, it had to be an unbroken line of information. Was she really that untrustworthy?

"Visual stakeout only, dealing with the Owen case. We wanted a better feel for him so we set up shop at a diner near his house, to see who was coming and who was going between the places in question. Cragen ordered if off the books and the backup was more training then anything else..." Her voice trailed off, letting out a sigh at Alex's stern gaze. "We didn't mean to go behind your back or anything. We never expected anything to come out of it in the first place. It was quiet and out of nowhere Anderson and Jake came out guns blazing. Elliot and I ran for it. It seemed like the best option at the time, especially since they were in uniform and we were in street clothes. If civilians had intervened..." She sighed. "Either way we need to figure out who's involved and who the hell left us out to dry. If it really was Owens then we've stepped into something deep."

"I thought he didn't have a record?"

"No record, not even a speeding ticket. With the toys he has and the slum he lives in though, I think that only makes him twice as suspicious at this point. I want his balls in a damn vice by the time this is over." Leaning back in the chair, she withheld a groan. Her shoulder was mass murdering her slowly but surely. "Sorry you got involved. I'll pay for the window _and_ the chair when we get this mess sorted out."

She had always fancied meeting Alex in her apartment under more favorable circumstances, but there was no time like the present to take in her surroundings. It was simple, spacious, and lacked any personality what so ever. Everything was stark white or stark black in alternating themes and patterns, leaving little to the imagination. No personal photography made itself known, no notebooks by the telephone or jars of unsorted pens. From what she gathered there was a living room the size of her own apartment, adjoined kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom along with a small study towards the back. She hadn't moved from the chair since she arrived, most of her information gained from listening to Alex restlessly move around the apartment. Before she had fallen asleep, of course. She had pictured Alex living in a more...secured area of New York, then again the chance of a break in at such heights were low. Herself being a stand alone case, of course.

"Don't worry about it. I already called the repair in and should have a new window by the end of the week. For now the blanket will work just as well. The view wasn't that favorable to begin with." She paused, folding her arms over her chest yet again. It was becoming a habit she wasn't particularly fond of. "It's not..."

"No, it isn't connected to Zapata." It was as if Olivia was reading her mind, though she doubted the connection was hard to make. "We aren't sure who the players are yet. To get cops, though? We're guessing bigger...wider...maybe out of state even, depending." She adjusted herself, using her good arm to push up off the chair, supporting herself as she secured her footing despite being on level ground. She felt like she was going to pass out or hit someone, she wasn't sure which. "Where's the restroom?"

Alex debated whether or not to lead the way, but thought better of it. "Down the hall, first door on the right. There's some fresh towels hanging on the rack and a spare tooth brush underneath the counter." As Olivia excused herself rather quietly, Alex noted the slight limp to her step and the constant cradling of her shoulder. She should be at a hospital, not playing cloak and daggers like it was type of games. There were legal ramifications for actions like this, and none of them were good. The shooting of a cop, off duty, by detectives in a surveillance op not approved through the attorney's office? If they couldn't prove the mob connection they'd be out of jobs quicker then the media could gather on the doorsteps.

Sometimes she wondered if the detectives ever thought past the next hour...

* * *

Elliot had managed to make his way over into the appropriate neighbor within the hour, the call to Cragen lasting the entire way there. He stuck to back roads and alleys, a seemingly familiar decision lately, satisfied that nobody knew what he was talking about to begin with. Just another New Yorker out at an unfortunate time. The captain's initial reaction was utter and complete rage, almost positive he heard something smash on the other side though he couldn't be certain. Second came more rage, and third came the passive aggressive regrouping he had been looking for. The first suspect was IAB, the seeming mortal enemy of SVU but the thought quickly passed. As much as they hated Tucker and everyone that worked for him, he wouldn't stoop so low as to know about mob members in his own group. The next suspect was homicide, and after that Owens himself though they were both positive the two were tightly intertwined to pull off such a stunt. Cragen had sent Fin to pick up the car and had Munch doing some much needed digging. He'd call again in an hour, and told Elliot to lay low and assess Olivia's wound. If it was too bad? They'd bring her somewhere.

Knocking on the door, he paused, listening to the rustling on the other side. The door slid open ever so slightly, revealing Alex through the chained slot, shutting it as it opened without the added security. "Elliot." She greeted briskly, ushering him inside as she shut and locked the door behind him. "If you plan on bleeding in my apartment, kindly do so on the same chair Olivia's been occupying." It was meant to come off as a joke, but it fell short into awkward territory, causing her to run a hand through her hair. "Sorry, long night. I suppose you've had your fair share of that as well. Make yourself comfortable, Olivia's freshening up."

"Sorry to put you out like this, Alex." Taking a seat on the couch, he cast a sideways glance at the chair in question, frowning at the amount of blood soaked into the cushions and back. "How bad is it?"

"Depends." She took a seat opposite of him. "It's a clean wound but I'm not a doctor and she isn't the easiest patient. I have no idea though. What did Don say?" They all needed guidance in this mess, even if it wasn't from her own office in question.

Elliot rolled his head back and forth before answering. "IAB is something we've ruled out completely. Homicide seems our best option for the leak though Don hasn't ruled out any other possibility. Would anyone in your office..."

"I'm not the most sociable of their employees but we have taken on a few new faces recently, younger. I don't know their names but I'll text the list to him once I get it. Three, maybe four? Nobody long standing though, I can assure." Thinking back through the faces, her office was entirely big and they took on weekly interns and studies at a whim. Could it be a security breach on their part? She'd have to talk with her bosses once everything was cleared. Maybe tighten things up a bit. They couldn't afford a scandal, it would jeopardize everything they worked for.

"I doubt it's a leak in the attorney's office. Things are tight there and background checks are a lot more extensive then for cops." Olivia made her way back onto her chair, feeling rather protective of it, seeing as to how well she bonded with it during the night. It was an expensive chair, too... "Are we lying low or can we actually get off our asses and catch these guys? We have Owens to worry about, too, if this isn't related." She bit the corner of her thumb, something which Alex couldn't help but notice with an amused smirk. Had she always done that?

Elliot's phone went off, digging it out of his pocket as he shoved it to his ear. "Stabler."

"Your esteemed colleagues have been digging their asses through the information super highway, and as luck would have it your boy Anderson has an extensive history." Munch, who else? "Of course he wasn't Lee Anderson, but rather Marcus Anderson. Three charges of assault, one charge of attempted rape, four charges of breaking and entering. Most violent and stupid crimes, nothing big time and nothing that held him for very long, unfortunately. There's a set of prints on record that we'll compare as soon as he gets down on the table with Warner."

"You guys are already processing the scenes?"

"We found Anderson but there's no sign of Jake anywhere, so we're assuming he's hiding low, same as you guys. Cap' wants one of you back for testimony. Rumor has it the feds have somehow caught wind of this."

"Shit." Olivia sent him a glance as he mouthed the word 'feds' which immediately caused both their blood to boil. _Damn it all to hell._ "I'll go. Unmarked car, pick me up at the corner of 5th and Romero Street, by the payphone." He clicked it off, letting out a laugh. "This is exactly what Munch needs for his conspiracy theories."

Olivia groaned. "We'll never hear the end of it at this point."

"It hardly sounds like a conspiracy at this point." Alex had her cellphone out, a rather nice and expensive looking blackberry, one she had grown to love over the years. It held her files like a charm, perfect for quick meetings and unplanned problems. "It seems our offices were broken into. Particularly? Mine. Unfortunately for them I never leave my files out of sight." Her eyebrow was raised in a mixture of irritation and surprised. "Whoever it is, they have balls. I'm known for my rather dangerous stilettos, you know." A particular suspect had tried rushing her during a plea agreement. Without thinking she had kicked him in the groin, successfully taking him down in time for officers to subdue him. Needless to say, he never did get that plea.

"Balls is right. Attacking cops and going after documents? They obviously want something and I bet you it's Owens. Covering their tracks in the worst way possible." Elliot muttered darkly. "How's your shoulder, Liv?"

"Fine. It stings but I _borrowed_ some of Alex's pain pills so hopefully those will kick in soon. Clean shot, it'll just take a few weeks to heal up. Nothing new." She kept brushing it off as if it were nothing. "I heard a pick up point, are we heading back in?"

"I am. You're staying put with your shoulder. Plus both of us going in is going to draw too much attention, especially with the feds getting involved and Anderson being dead. If we keep you out of the picture we won't have to push you through an interview with them quite yet." It made sense, but it pissed her off and he knew it. "At least you don't have to ride in a car with Munch for the next hour?"

"You deserve it, ass."

* * *

"I can't believe he left me here." Olivia was now sprawled out on the couch, Alex coaxing her out of her dingy dirty chair with the excuse it would stain the sweats she let her borrow. She didn't personally mind the day from court, she would have had to take it anyways after the break in, but she was on edge with the entire situation in question. Too much in the dark with little to look forward to. It'd been two hours and Elliot hadn't called yet. A text from Munch told them that he was still in with the feds, for whatever reason. They had no jurisdiction in the case, as far as anyone was concerned. They were just trying to muscle their way in for the _hopeful_ fame they were counting on. The only fed she could stand was Huang, and either that was stretched trust at times.

"I didn't know my apartment was that much of a bore, detective. There's an assortment of movies beneath the television if you feel so inclined, as well as cable and satellite though I'm unsure of what's on at this hour." She was never home during the day, and on her days off she was working anyways. In all honesty, she wasn't sure why she payed the cable bill or had satellite. It was easy to go without both, having the internet at her fingertips.

Olivia smiled. "I would imagine Judge Judy or something along the lines. If we're lucky? _Maury_."

"Do people really watch that?" She laughed.

"I'd rather be watching another scum in the interrogation room hang himself." Back to muttering. "The feds have no right to be involved in our case. Are they jutting in on the break in at the office?"

"No, thankfully. We are launching our own investigation though. Whoever's stupid enough to break into a room full of lawyers is stupid enough to leave behind evidence in the process, I'm sure. I'm more concerned if anything else was taken from the other rooms. We have so many files and books it's hard to keep track of sometime." She had her own book in hand, reexamining her closing arguments for the same case she was working earlier. Open and shut, and now delayed until next week. Hopefully not much longer then that. "Your shoulder?"

"Alex." She sighed. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. The pain pills didn't do much but I'm sure they'll kick in eventually."

"How many have you even taken?"

"Seven?"

"Olivia! You're suppose to take six at maximum in a twenty four hour time period. And that's two every two hours, you haven't even been here for six!" She chastised immediately, snatching the pill bottle and tossing it in the garbage. Empty. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to monitor your self medication _as well_ as your wound." Pinching the bridge of her nose, she finally set aside her book. "I made a call." She paused. "Technically not a call, more of a text. I'm not a doctor Olivia, and I'm not going to pretend I am and hope that it doesn't become infected. Enough laws have been broken tonight."

"Alex..."

"No, it's fine. No leaks, no question of moral ethics, and nobody I don't trust. You should be just as trusting, I'm sure. I didn't mean to go behind your back about the manner but you aren't exactly forthcoming about your physical condition." Five cups of coffee and she still didn't feel awake. When had she last slept? She wasn't sure. A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, finally removing herself from the chair. She answered the door with a smile, leading her into the living room.

"Warner?" Olivia was a bit more then taken aback. She stared back at Alex. "I'm shot, not dead."

Melinda laughed. "Despite working on cadavers all day, I am medically trained, 'Liv. Don't worry about it. Now how about you show me the wound so I can see what's going on here. No questions asked, nothing on record. Just to make sure you're fine." As she grabbed onto her arm, she looked up at the detective. "You should of gone to a hospital, regardless." With that, she went to work. "The dressing is fine and it's clean but I see signs of a slight infection. I'm guessing you were out in the cold a little too long?" Olivia nodded briefly. "I have some pills you can take.."

"She's had several ibuprofen already." Alex voiced much to Olivia's disapproval.

"Wait three hours, take one. I'll give the bottle to Alex just to be safe. Other then that it's fine as long as you redress the wound every few hours and don't use it for difficult tasks. Desk duty for the next week, preferably. Otherwise you're going to tear at the wound and infect it further. Which, in the end, means more desk duty later down the road." She knew detectives were difficult when it came to taking care of themselves. Olivia was no exception the rule, if not a reinforcement to it.

She packed up her kit, leaving the pills and dressings on the table next to Alex. "My assistant is taking a look at Anderson. Two clean shots, it was instant death. In all honesty he was going to die in a few years thanks to advanced liver failure from alcohol poisoning. Past that, nothing suspicious. Figured I'd let you know."

"Thanks Melinda." Olivia gave her a warm smile. She left after a few goodbyes and hurried thanks, realizing she was due for more examinations in ten minutes. Not enough time to get across town in traffic, but she'd make up an excuse. The bodies weren't going anywhere, anyways.

Her shoulder throbbed from the contact and change of bandages, throwing her head back as she stared at the ceiling. "Thanks, Alex." She finally gave in. "What are the chances of you giving me a pill early?"

_"Zero to none."_

"I can't believe Elliot left me here."


End file.
